Body, Heart and Mind
by ardavenport
Summary: A strange planet of light and dark seasons celebrates its mid-summer's dark, but Obi-Wan leads Qui-Gon through the festivities for other motives.
1. Chapter 1

**BODY HEART AND MIND**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 1**

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Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped onto the ramp and walked up to the platform, the cheers and shouts of the crowd all around him. Wearing only his pale pants, tied securely around his skinny eighteen-year-old waist with an extra rope of fabric, he kept his arms at his sides, his eyes forward. His Padawan's lock lay combed flat on the back of his head. His braid tightly coiled, concealed by a large fragrant red flower clipped behind his right ear.

Jagged lines of lava flows glowed red in the blackness of the far distance. Starless clouds glowered low overhead in the night sky above, trapping the warm moist air in the valley. Smoldering shades of red and orange lights dotted the enormous plane of the festival below the Joining Arena.

Reaching the height of the platform, Obi-Wan held up his two tokens, swinging from their cords, one with the spiral of Mind, one with the square of Body. The token with the eight-pointed star of Heart hung down over his bare almost-hairless chest. The crowd cheered, joyful, expectant, hands held high around him. In their midst, Obi-Wan saw the hands he sought.

The Force surrounded him thickly like the humidity and the sheen of sweat that would not evaporate from his skin, and he gave himself to it. The token of Mind flew high in the air, the trajectory subtly altered in mid-air until it plunged straight down into the hands he chose.

The crowd roared loudly again for the chosen and the chooser. A tall slender woman with pale skin and short, thick dark hair, fluttering layers of long sleeves and skirts spreading out, emerged. Her body glided over the others around her, supported by the hands and good will of the crowd.

Obi-Wan held up the second token. The crowd responded again. It flew high and nearly dove downward, snatched out of the air by the hand of Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan's Master. The taller man, a rough gray concealing poncho concealing all but his head and legs, nearly erupted up out of people around him as they lifted him and passed him hand to hand toward a second platform.

Descending the steps before him, Obi-Wan stretched himself out onto the welcoming hands and appendages waiting to carry him to the Joining platform as well. Hands, paws, hardened claws, fleshy digits, hair, feathery down and scales touched him everywhere as if his slight body weighted nothing at all, new ones taking his shoulders and arms, passing ones leaving his legs and sandaled feet.

He gripped the worn stone of the Joining platform as he arrived, sliding upward as the crowd pushed him forward. Standing, Obi-Wan faced Qui-Gon and the woman.

Arm extended, Qui-Gon held out the Body token, gleaming in the reddened light. Obi-Wan took the cord and when his Master bowed to him, he placed it over his head.

"I am our Body. You are my Heart. Lead and I will follow," Qui-Gon said, loud enough for crowd around them to hear. He touched his lips to Obi-Wan's forehead.

Turning to the woman, Obi-Wan took the token of Mind and placed its cord over her bowed head.

"I am our Mind. You are my Heart. Lead and I will follow," she said in a loud strong voice with a pleasant tone and a mid-Core Republic accent. They all joined hands.

"We are Trine, joined by the mid-summer night!" Qui-Gon and the woman called out. The crowd happily shouted and squealed with happiness. Obi-Wan said nothing, arms raised as high as he could with the two taller people beside him. The Heart did not speak. The Heart led at the mid-summer festival.

They left the platform, the crowd making a corridor for them to leave the Arena. Behind them, a new cheer rose up, as the next Heart stood on the center platform to choose.

Nameless now, except for Heart, Mind and Body, Obi-Wan jogged past the people toward gates of the arena, pulling his Master on his left, the woman on his right. But both Jedi knew that they left with Emrie Srotion. Fugitive from the Galactic Republic. Killer of a Jedi.

Obi-Wan wove through the thinner crowd milling outside. Some people recognized the new Trine with smiles and waves. They descended down the path through the deeper darkness of the trees, simu-fire lanterns decorating the branches. Beside and behind him, Obi-Wan sensed his Master's calm purpose, and admiration for the happiness around them. On his other side, Ermie's face glowed with abandon and a vibrant embrace of her adopted world, her refuge.

Clearing the trees, they paused on a bluff paved with wide squares, a stone balustrade between it and the drop down the hill. The city of the Festival spread out on the plane below, a few proud and ancient buildings and bridges standing tall among a throng of tent tops and temporary pre-fab shelters. Huge orange simu-flame lights decorated the tops of the towers.

They went down the wide stone stairs, all the way to the gates of the mid-summer festival.

"We have a young Heart," Ermie panted happily. She held tight to Obi-Wan, her long fingers firmly curling around his sweaty hand. Obi-Wan slowed to a walk as they passed under the gate arch. People and other Trines passed them.

"He is," Qui-Gon agreed lightly, "I am told that is rare."

"Yes. It is," she said with blissful approval and bent to sniff the flower behind Obi-Wan's ear.

Only those who had participated with no discord as Body and Mind three times for each played the role of Heart. The local Constabulary had discreetly provided the necessary exception for Obi-Wan. Though they also prepared a similar exception for Qui-Gon, Ermie made it unnecessary when she entered the arena as Mind-presumptive. New participants in the Trines always served as the Body.

"You are new then to this?"

"I am a visitor to this world only. Friends recommended this experience with much enthusiasm."

"Be careful my Body, you may like it so much you will want to stay," she warned with a laugh.

"I do not believe I could get used to the dark," Qui-Gon told her.

"If you had seen the terrible storms that come during the sun time of the year, you would not miss the light at all," Ermie advised, her tone turning serious before Obi-Wan tugged both Mind and Body behind him.

Obi-Wan, mindful of their goal, looked for an area with private rooms of any kind where they could be alone with Emrie Srotion. The Constabulary had shown them maps of the grounds, but only whim and fancy directed the events of the mid-summer festival held at the height of the long lazy cycle of darkness and flourishing wild fauna. On this planet, with its extreme rotational tilt, the daylight season brought harsh winds, violent weather and a cold white light winter.

On his right a group of actors pranced through a noisy performance for a large laughing audience, crowds spilling out of the interior of the many openings at the base of a tower that served as the backdrop for the show.

On his left people sat in and milled about rows of food tents strung with strings of blinking red lights, limp flags hanging high on poles overhead in the still air thick with the spreading scents of food and cooking. But Obi-Wan's mission spoiled his appetite. he moved on.

The crowds increased. Most people wore loose, sleeveless clothes, though some furred species wore no coverings at all. The lights hung high on poles turned all pale colors orangish-pink and muddied any non-reddish hues. No other colors survived the smoldering the lava reds and fiery oranges.

"Our Heart is restless," Ermie commented; Obi-Wan heard a tone of impatience. He needed to find a private place, but mobs of people crammed every space, every building, every tent and structure around them.

"I am enjoying the tour," Qui-Gon told her, his hand briefly squeezing Obi-Wan's. "It is exhilarating."

"But participating is so much better," she said, swinging hers and Obi-Wan's arm, her layers of sleeve brushing by him.

They passed another Trine, positioned on the flat edge of a fountain, the Mind and Body singing in very good harmony, the elderly Heart between them happily enjoying the music. Some of the crowd gathered under them sang less tunefully, but no one seemed to mind.

Obi-Wan headed through a current of people toward their best hope of getting Ermie alone, the rows of artists' tents on the far side of a park. Loud music thumped from a sunken gathering area in the near corner of the park and Ermie pulled toward it. Floater lights of all colors jounced and bobbed over the moving bodies, the only blues or greens in any direction. The true colors of the mob of dancers under them flashed in and out of sight. Along the raised perimeter around the dancers more heads and bodies bounced up and down on large circles of flexible membranes.

Ermie fell into step with the thumping beat as they passed.

Then Qui-Gon fell into step with her.

A quick glance to his Master confirmed that they should stop to placate their target.

Thump, Thump, Thump, a-Thump. Thump-thump-thump-thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, a-Thump.

Their hands joined in a three-person circle, they moved together toward the jostling bodies.

Thump, Thump, Thump, a-Thump. Thump-thump-thump-thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, a-Thump.

Emrie danced, swaying and stepping with the sound. Her Body and Heart moved with her. Qui-Gon grinned broadly. Even without using the Force, the energy of the music and the other dancers filled Obi-Wan with their enthusiasm and he stepped lightly with them.

Thump, Thump, Thump, a-Thump. THUMP-thump-thump-thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, a-THUMP.

Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan toward one of the membranes, his eyes flicking in that direction, his expression playful. Complying, but not understanding, Obi-Wan led them up the couple of steps to the nearest membrane and they joined the bouncing dancers.

The shiny tokens around their necks bounced wildly on their chests. Emrie laughed and Qui-Gon put his full body strength into jumping upward. But not the Force. Neither one of them dared to reveal any Jedi abilities in front of Emrie. Until they needed to.

THUMP, Thump, Thump, a-Thump. THUMP-thump-thump-thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, a-THUMP.

Qui-Gon and Emrie began a game of boosting Obi-Wan higher with their longer arms. On the third bounce Obi-Wan glimpsed Constable Tremploidi and her team pointing at them and heading in their directions. The Constables wore loose body coverings like Qui-Gon's, concealing their uniforms.

THUMP, THUMP, Thump, a-Thump. THUMP-thump-thump-thump, Thump, Thump, THUMP A-THUMP.

They continued with the bouncing dancers until the Constables had reestablished their covert surveillance and Emrie breathlessly begged for a break, though she seemed reluctant to leave.

They climbed down and Obi-Wan retied the extra rope around the waistline of his pants which had slid dangerously low on his hips. A quick pat under the flower behind his ear confirmed that his braid remained securely hidden. He headed toward the artist's tents again. The music relentlessly pounded on without them.

"Aaaah! You are both fitter than I!" Emrie exclaimed happily.

Obi-Wan grinned back at Ermie and increased his pace.

When they arrived at the rows of tents, a man wearing only a loin cloth greeted them. Dark curls and lines covered his bare, hairless skin, intricate patterns of fine detail and complex geometry decorated him everywhere, the lines and shapes only broken by his broad smile.

He offered them paints and brushes. Obi-Wan let go the hands of his Body and Mind and accepted. Then he turned first to Qui-Gon and then Emrie, giving them the oval bottles and fine brushes.

"You wish to be made more beautiful, my Heart," Emrie said to him with approval, touching his flower. A little embarrassed and grateful that the Heart did not speak, Obi-Wan pressed his lips together. Her hand slid to his cheek, her long elegant fingers stroking his skin.

"Are you an artist, my Body?" she asked, playful.

Qui-Gon, his expression amused, held up his paints and brushes. "Apparently we shall see."

The man in the loin cloth bowed deeply to them and they walked together down the rows of small tents. Obi-Wan picked one with vacant tents on either side of it, their door flaps tied back, their simple interiors exposed and open. He led them inside and Qui-Gon untied the flap, letting the heavy fabric fall to the ground. Red lamps hung from above and on the side opposite the flap, illuminating the small stools and a central bench. The four fabric walls muffled the sounds of voices and activity and distant music outside.

Emrie and Qui-Gon sat on stools facing each other while Obi-Wan stretched out on his stomach, on the padded bench, presenting his bare back to them, his head resting on his folded arms. The ink bottles clacked, placed on other stools, their stoppers opened. Fabric rustled, Emrie's dress and Qui-Gon's body covering.

"I shall begin. . . . . here," Emrie declared, her voice hushed in the echoless small space of the tent.

A cold wet brush touched him on the right side of his back, under his arm.

"What is that?" Qui-Gon asked.

"A poem. An old script I learned in school. Everyone attended art classes; part of our well rounded education though the instructor didn't have an imaginative bone in his body. I could have learned just as well from a droid. But I always thought these letters were pretty."

Delicate little brush strokes made their way up to Obi-Wan's right shoulder.

"What does it say?"

"'Life is for the living. Leave the dead behind. Life is for the taking. Body, Heart and Mind."

A new line of cold tiny ink strokes started, going up to Obi-Wan's shoulder again.

"It is best to leave death behind," Qui-Gon commented. "But not all lives are for taking."

"Life is what you make of it. I intend to make much of the life I have. But you haven't shown me your artistic side, my Body," Ermie encouraged.

After a clinking of brush and ink bottle, a thicker, heavier brush touched Obi-Wan. Cold, wet ink swept an arc down and back up over almost the whole width of his back.

"That's a bold stroke."

"My artistic education is limited, but I was always taught to be bold."

A silent line of ink slid down Obi-Wan's spine. Then a second one, next to the first. The brush stroked lines outward from one spot on his lower back before sweeping upward again. Once. Twice.

"That is a Jedi symbol," Ermie whispered, emerging fear stealing her voice. Her fine brush point touching Obi-Wan's skin stopped moving.

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied pleasantly, "it is."

**

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- - - END Part 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**BODY HEART AND MIND**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 2  
**

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Silence. And fear solidifying. Obi-Wan closed his eyes. But he still saw deep maroon hues through his eyelids. Bright red stained his inner vision in the Force. Image of Emrie Srotion. Image of Qui-Gon Jinn. Facing each other behind him, all color bled from them. Except for the red, bright and living with shadows like dried blood.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked.

"No. Jedi do not seek vengeance. But we do seek information."

Silence. No longer cold next to his skin, Ermie's forgotten brush pressed into Obi-Wan's back.

"How did Saitak Lorots die? We have second-hand accounts that . . . . you were involved in his death when the [i]Comet's Tail[/i] was taken, but there were no bodies when the ship was recovered."

The pressure point of the brush lifted.

Eyes still closed, head resting on his arms, Obi-Wan saw Ermie pull away, wanting the shadows to conceal her, to hide her from Qui-Gon.

"He was killed in the cross-fire, during the battle to take the ship. Tab Himir got in a lucky shot and wounded the Jedi. I tried to fire back, but I hit Saitak instead. I'm sorry. I'm not good with weapons. When I got away from the pirates, I left the Republic. I knew I would be prosecuted for. . . . .killing a Jedi. Even if it was an accident."

"An accident?"

"Yes, I swear," Emrie pleaded, desperation flowing freely from her. "It. . . it was just bad luck. I didn't mean to. I swear."

"The reality of a Jedi does not include luck." Qui-Gon put his paint brush aside, next to the ink bottle on the stool next to him. "You were observed with Tab Himir. By an informant."

Ermie straightened, her fear lessening. "I did what I had to after the ship was captured. I don't apologize for that. Himir would have had me killed if I hadn't. . . .cooperated. You're a large male. And a Jedi. You wouldn't know what it's like to be . . . . weaker than another person who wants you."

"Weakness is not always measured in physical strength. Or the lack of it. And the informant observed you with Tab Himir before the pirates attacked the [i]Comet's Tail[/i]."

"None of the crew saw us. They couldn't have - - - " Ermie choked off her rushed denial. her admission.

"You already seem to know everything, Jedi."

Something very softly clicked.

Obi-Wan's eyes opened. His body tensed with a primal paralyzing fear that pierced his skull back to front, an imaginary line of blue-white fire searing his brain, boiling his blood, his eyes. Everything went red.

One heartbeat. Two. Three. Quick and pounding, but felt through the agonizingly slow crawl of time.

His vision returned.

The smooth fabric wall, reddened by the simu-flame lighting of the tent, hung less than half an arm's length from him. The walls on either side and the pitched covering above enclosed them in bloody shadows, the air thick with the breathing of three people in a confined space.

"Not everything," Qui-Gon answered calmly, adding another exhale to the thickening air. He laid a hand on Obi-Wan's bare back, the skin there immediately warming with a soporific heat that spread into him, to all his limbs. Obi-Wan slowly closed his eyes, the weight of his head on his arms.

"In fact, I hardly know anything at all," Qui-Gon continued, his voice sounding muffled in the heat and redness. "You could tell me so much. While I examine your arm."

"Yes. Of course."

The layers of Emrie's full sleeve brushed over Obi-Wan's exposed back, a distant tickle of fabric.

"How did you kill Saitak Lorots?"

Qui-Gon's question echoed from a distance in Obi-Wan's head. Pleasantly detached from the uncomfortable closeness of the artist's tent, he viewed the flickering images of reds and oranges, his Master and Ermie, from above through the Force. Holding her extended arm, Qui-Gon pushed Ermie's long sleeve layers back. Obi-Wan felt the thin ruffles touching his back as he watched Qui-Gon reveal the mechanism braced to her exposed arm. She passively accepted his touch, her eyes half-closed.

"I shot him from behind. I always keep a small blaster up my sleeve. Just in case." She smiled, pleased with her foresight, before continuing. "I waited until he was too busy defending the crew to stop me. It was strange; he didn't look surprised at all when he looked at me. Like he knew. He must have been crazy not to save himself instead of dying trying to save a crew that we killed anyway."

"He must have been," Qui-Gon commented quietly. His fingers caressed Ermie's arm, the struts of the brace on it and the silvery shiny lightsaber locked into place there. "You seem to have modified your weapon of choice."

"Of course, Tab gave it to me. It was my kill. And it fit. That Jedi had small hands. And it's so much more powerful and sure than that little blaster I had." Smiling, Ermie tilted her head, staring dreamily up at the simu-flame lights.

"I see. Very clever." Qui-Gon carefully explored the delicate mechanism on Emrie's forearm while holding the emitter end of the lightsaber up and away from him.

"You have disengaged the safety catch," Qui-Gon said with only a mild, playful rebuke in his voice.

"Of course," Emrie said, contented, still staring up at the lights. "You'd have to let me get away if there was an innocent at risk." She reached out with her free hand and began stroking the head of the body lying between her and her Jedi interrogator, again giving Obi-Wan the double sensation of her hands on him and seeing them from above along with feeling what she felt through the Force.

"You are very resourceful," Qui-Gon said agreeably as he carefully withdrew the trigger from the saber's activation switch with a few clicks. He then loosened the bands around the lightsaber hilt, freeing it. "But a lightsaber does cause very. . . . unique damage to its targets. The local Constabulary has noticed it in some of your more recent kills."

"Oh, they're not smart enough to figure anything out. And the people on this planet don't care if out-worlders kill each other." Emrie's fingers pressed harder on Obi-Wan's skull; they painfully dug into his thick hair, grasping it possessively.

"Hmmm," Qui-Gon said, nodding. He placed the saber down at Obi-Wan's side, the metaloid cylinder cool against his skin. "Perhaps you are right. But there are still questions. If you would come with me outside." He took Emrie's wrist, his thumb firmly rubbing it, freeing her grasp on Obi-Wan's hair.

They now faced each other, Jedi Master and killer of a Jedi, their hands clasped over Obi-Wan's prone body.

"We can answer all our questions there. They're waiting to hear from you. Eager to meet you," Qui-Gon said, smiling. Emrie preened, blissfully unconcerned about who 'they' were.

They rose together and left the tent.

Smelling the sweet fragrance of his slightly crushed flower under his right ear, Obi-Wan sighed deeply into the thick maroon air around him, warm and content, except. . . .

. . . . his hair still hurt where Emrie had pulled on it.

Eyes snapping open, he pushed himself up and looked over his shoulders at the entrance flap of the tent in one smooth motion. Something thumped.

Outside, he heard voices, the constables, Qui-Gon, Emrie's entranced tones, slow and languid as if drugged and so completely under his Master's influence through the Force.

As he had been.

He turned around completely, facing the tent flap. Bending over to the side, he picked up the lightsaber that had fallen to the dry grassy ground. Sitting cross-legged on the bench, he held it carefully with both hands in his lap.

Saitak Lorots's lightsaber.

Taken from him as a trophy by his killer. And used to murder petty criminals who displeased a fugitive.

He ran his fingers along the slim silver saber hilt, the evenly dotted ridges of the handgrip, the decorative indentations that spiraled up to the emitter shroud that gleamed, reflecting the waving simu-flame of the lantern above.

It completed their mission. At least Qui-Gon completed it. Obi-Wan only lured their target to his Master as an attractive and youthful Heart.

As soon as Emrie had activated the trigger device on her arm, Qui-Gon moved to influence her. Jedi mind influences worked very well on vain and hedonistic people.

And on fearful Jedi Padawans.

He held the saber up before him and lightly touched the activation switch.

The blue-white beam loudly hissed into life, vanquishing the red simu-flame lighting with its brightness. Obi-Wan stared into it. A flicker of an image passed before him in an eye blink. A Jedi Knight, thin and agile and wielding the saber that Obi-Wan now held. And looking back at his killer, giving himself totally to the Force in his last fight. And accepting the death that came from it. He felt no fear.

Outside the tent, the voices stopped.

Obi-Wan clicked the lightsaber off, it's loud hum ending abruptly, leaving only silence. He laid it down before him on the bench.

The voices outside resumed.

The tent flap lifted. Qui-Gon, his head lowered under it, extended his hand.

"Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan leaned forward, handing him the lightsaber. Qui-Gon backed out again, returning to the others outside.

Lifting his head, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, letting the words and thoughts of the others outside flow to him. The constables' wary surprise over Emrie's cooperation and their suspicion over Qui-Gon's easy manner with her as he demonstrated how Emrie's trigger device, now removed from her arm, worked. Some of the Constables feared Qui-Gon.

A Constable bound Emrie's arms behind her. Worry and then fear shattered her tranquility, Qui-Gon no longer influencing her. She began to struggle as four officers led her away. They disappeared in the distance while the others stayed, recording Qui-Gon's statements and scanning the recovered lightsaber until they exhausted their inquiries. Then they left, Qui-Gon watching them go.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes again.

Qui-Gon re-entered the tent, stepping inside.

"We are finished here," he announced, his arms folded under his body covering with an extra lump where he held Knight Saitak's lightsaber.

"Did you know that Emrie would kill me?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I knew that I could stop her." Qui-Gon answered, his dark blue eyes black in the reddish light. He unfolded his arms and held up the silvery saber. "And that you could not."

Obi-Wan lowered his eyes. "I am. . . . . disappointed, Master. That I was afraid. Saitak was not afraid, even when he knew that Emrie would kill him." He looked up again. "Nor you."

"I do not fear your death, my young Padawan. But," the reddish-orange light glinted in Qui-Gon's eyes, "I would choose to face my own death before yours."

"I would as well for you, my Master."

Qui-Gon smiled. "I do not doubt that." He stepped forward, laying a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "And with time and experience you will learn to release your fear. Even before appears." Qui-Gon looked down at the saber he still held. Obi-Wan stood.

"Enrie did not understand that," Qui-Gon continued as they exited the tent. "She thought that Saitak was crazy to not be afraid to die to save others." Then his eyes, full of compassion, found Obi-Wan's again. "But you are - - "

" - - Not crazy enough," Obi-Wan finished with a grin.

Caught in mid-sentence, Qui-Gon stared back, his mouth still open. Then he grinned back, putting his arm over Obi-Wan's shoulders.

"You are still learning to be," Qui-Gon reassured him. They strolled together down the rows of tents, some with closed flaps, more of them open and empty, waiting for patrons. No one else passed them as they reached the end of the lane, the music and noise of the festival becoming louder as they left the quiet area.

"Friends!" The painted man who had given them their paints called. They turned back to him. "You've lost your Mind."

Hand going to the Heart token around his neck, Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon who shrugged and smiled back.

"We have," he acknowledged, his arm still hugging Obi-Wan's shoulders. "But I do not think we will miss her."

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**- - - END - - -**

This story first posted on tf.n: 9-Dec-2008

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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